


A Wolf In a Bear Trap

by StardragonSalem



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Blood and Violence, Broken Bones, Burns, Grisly shit here people, Injury, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:08:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23954350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StardragonSalem/pseuds/StardragonSalem
Summary: Set years after R3make. Nicholai is in a bad way, and tries, in a last ditch effort, steals a rare virus to turn a hefty profit.It ends up leaving him indebted to the person he stole from, but she ends up being the least of his problems.





	A Wolf In a Bear Trap

**Author's Note:**

> I am so sorry, y'all, I swear I'm working on Bad Moon Rising. I just have to get some stuff out of my system first, and this is one of them.
> 
> So UBCSMercernary wrote a kickass Unspoken entry on Amino, and it inspired me to write a wee something with Nicholai, myself. This verse is actually not Weskerford, but my main Canon universe I call Biohazard. Yet again, nothing you've ever heard before, right? Riiiiight. I think this would be a good opportunity to kinda introduce my "canon" universe in this little snippet, wherein many, MANY things are different, with characters unseen in that AU that are around the same age as Alexis! ...Who has a much more miserable life in this.
> 
> Anywho, I'll let you meet these terrible bastards, in their full, wholesale bastard form. As no God intended.
> 
> EDIT: I swear one day I'll edit this thoroughly when I have the time, I just needed to get it out of my system or somewhere else, cause re-reading this, it's ROUGH, BUDDY, BUT I STILL LIKE IT

Nicholai had, in his opinion hit the most shit streak of bad luck humanly possible.

Those B.S.A.A. rat bastards had finally picked up his trail, after years of being a ghost. And wouldn't you know it, most of the sellers that bought from his black market arms operations had now considered him a liability. Without them, his suppliers would not be getting paid - and they much prefered prompt payment. With a reasonable interest attached, of course.

Nicholai did not even have the interest.

He was losing time, and time was money. Every factor, every decision, meant money. And he was losing just that, going from crashpad to crashpad, running from them at every turn. Once, his codename was 'Silver Fox.' He was like the animal, strong, ruthless, majestic. Now? Now his pelt was matted and patchy, his ears torn, tail drooping, ribs showing on its sides.

And his paws were so sore and bloody from running.

But he was resourceful. He had to be, to get this far in life, with what he did for a living, snuffing out others' for a quick buck. Using the last of his favours, he hired a master thief to obtain a sample from a virus so rare, the only samples left were housed in the private residence of the last member of the family that created said virus.

The T-Veronica Virus.

A pure strain of that virus was on everyone's Christmas list. Its capabilities were _incredible,_ people wanting to try to manipulate it so that its ignemia abilities would extend to those outside of the now extinct Ashford family. Manuela Hidalgo died because of that - she was given everything that could foster her ignemia, and it worked… For all of a few hours. Then, she fizzled out and died. Nicholai didn't care what happened after whoever it was he sold it to got their hands on it. As long as the number of their bid went higher and higher, he would keep their attention.

Nicholai made sure to store it well, and not just in his freezer. A specialized case was also taken when he got the sample. Plugged in 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. He even got himself a nice steak to cook, about to be seared to well-done perfection. His budget was about to get _much_ larger. And he would be able to get out of this shithouse apartment complex, too, he thought, as he went up the steps. He turned the key in the lock, opened the door, stepped through-

And the door _slammed behind him._

Darkness once again flooded the room. Nicholai dropped the groceries, grabbed his pistol and started to creep into the apartment. He heard shuffling, clacking of claws, strange chittering all around him as he did… He couldn't keep up with it all, the almost nonexistent light outside trickling in through the window, only shining on a couple of fidgeting figures… in the _rafters?_

Nicholai's confusion then left him spooked when he saw two red lights in the corner of his eye. After that, a _CLICK_ turned on the lamp by the easy chair in the living room.

He knew her. She knew he knew her. They had never met, face to face, but how do you not know much of the person you've stolen from, the outbreaks and mayhem they've caused, their blood kin that washed their hands in the sanguine of the sufferers of their machiavellian misdeeds, the ashes she leaves in her wake?

The virulent, divine in the most perverse way, fair-skinned and featured being before him, with those scarlet eyes that followed you everywhere, the pale, sunlight-blonde hair in a ponytail, clad in darkness and a necklace with a large ruby, sapphire, emerald each, looked unbothered with his presence, merely looking at him with acknowledgement of his entrance. As if this was more her home than his.

"You have _shit_ taste in vintage," Alexis V. Wesker said, eyes going back to the wine glass in her hand as she took a few sips.

Nicholai trained his gun on her, but was jumped from all angles by multiple attackers, ones he no longer registered from the moment the light was turned on. Beaks bit the down to the _bone_ with some of them, the hand that held the handgun relinquishing the weapon. He growled and screwed up his face as his fingers curled into pained claws. Alexis put the glass down, coolly dragged the gun away from him with her boot, and stared down at him, eyes glittering like shining hellfire as she smirked at him. Another vulture, an almost phoenix-looking bird, jumped onto her shoulders and hissed at Nicholai, a harsh, cold noise, beak splitting into four parts, two barbed tongues wiggling as he voiced his fury.

 _"Virgil,"_ Alexis said in a placating tone, patting his head, voice sickly sweet, "everything is alright. Your flockmates have him restrained."

Talons dug into any part they could on Nicholai's body that they could. No arteries, though. Almost as if they knew just which parts to _clutch._ They hissed softly, chittered in contempt, sounding like hellish imps on his back. Their Queen began to circle him, smiling.

"You know, there are certain viral samples that are very personal to me," she began, starting get out of eyeshot, "Uroboros, let's face it, that _tripe_ I keep about just in case, C was one of my many favourites, G is full of memories, but _T-Phobos_ and _T-Veronica,_ well."

She chuckled wryly, her footsteps going into his bedroom. He could hear the case opening. _No. No._

Alexis moved back into sight, holding the sample.

"That marks a death sentence. I found your little friend about to leave when I ordered the Hábrók to pick him clean - Virgil only eats the bones, you see - when I realized, _why don't I see who he works for, hmm?_ So, I got his contact, killed them, went from there, again, and again until to _my surprise,_ Nicholai Genovef, the _Silver Wolf himself,_ was still around, and decided to pay me a visit! ...And so here we are…"

She started to pull out a silver and black gun from her coat.

"And here _I am, returning the favour."_ The last words were dark. Low. Threatening, as she pointed her gun at his face.

"Wait! WAIT!"

"Oh, no. There is no waiting. Not for you."

"I will do _whatever you ask!_ You cannot kill me! I am an asset!"

"This says otherwise," her tone was chilly, absolute.

_"NO! NO, THIS CANNOT END LIKE THIS! IT CAN'T!"_

The vultures gripped him further, hissing and chittering loudly as he moved. 

_"Ohhh,_ it _can't…_ That's more than news to me."

_"I WILL PROVE MYSELF! MAKE IT UP TO YOU IN ANY WAY POSSIBLE! PLEASE! PLEASE-"_

Before Nicholai realized what was happening, the vultures jumped off of him, and he was seized by his neck, slammed against a wall, pointer finger and thumb digging painfully into his jaw, the other three fingers gripping his arteries tightly. 

_"Shut the FUCK up, you pathetic rat,"_ Alexis hissed, teeth bared. _"I_ am the one who decides your fate, _deserved. Or. No._ I am the judge, _they_ are the jury, and I get to choose who is the executioner."

 _"...Please…"_ Nicholai choked out. He never thought he would be begging to anyone like this.

"Please? 'Please let me live, even though I had someone break into your home, please let me breathe air I do not deserve, please forgive me for stealing what little of your mother's essence in this world that you have-' I see _nothing_ to justify these pleas."

He was losing blood to his brain, oxygen in his lungs, and his jaw was starting to _twist._

"But I may just have a little something for you to do. Hold still."

She bit off the glove on her free hand and pressed her hand to his chest. If Nicholai could have, he would have screamed. He was being branded like cattle with her hand, and just as he was about to pass out, to be free of this, he was dropped, head spinning, gasping for air.

"You swear fealty to _me,_ you work for nobody but _me,_ you do not do as much as _purchase takeaway_ without a say-so from me - _do you understand?"_ The Queen asked harshly, jerking his head up to face her

Nicholai coughed, rasping, nodding weakly.

"Good! Then, it looks as if we can talk business," Alexis said cheerily, letting his head hit the floor.

"I don't want anything too fancy, just a simple hit."

She sounded as if nothing happened, as if she hadn't just essentially tortured him.

"I need you to kill a certain Jill Valentine for me. I'll take your wheezing as your acceptance, thank you for the prompt response. There is no catch here - if you don't succeed, you die, kill anyone who gets in your way... I will provide transport, weapons - the whole 9 yards."

He heard her footsteps on the old boards start to depart towards the window, the vibrations lessening in intensity.

"Oh, and if you decide to opt out, or contact any help, remember: _You will go through with this. And you will do it alone._ And don't forget: I have eyes _everywhere."_

And with that, the window opened, and in a flurry of wing beats, the Queen took back her inheritance, slipping into the night, followed by her queensguard of blighted raptors.

*****

Well, The Queen had kept her promise. For a week afterwards, Nicholai was followed by shadows above him with red eyes, screeching at him and hissing softly. Fuck. _Fuck!_ Of course those he was given the lowest people on the totem pole, _of course_ he would get fucked over like this!

One day, there was a knock at the door. Two very large, no-nonsense men stared Nicholai down. They had to have been armed. Nicholai wasn't going test that theory, though.

"Her Highness has told us to collect you so that you may collect your debt."

Fucking Weskers. Delusional, all of them. They were like hydras - you kill one, 3 more pop up. Probably because the king of delusional grandeur himself could not keep it in his fucking pants to save his life.

It certainly didn't, in the end.

*****

It took them a day to get there, a day to rest, a day to prepare and wait. Nicholai scoped out the house - _her house_ \- for the whole day. There was normal activity. The lights went out at 2200 hours.

He made his move out of his post around 0200 hours.

It was a nice house, Nicholai thought to himself. Maybe he would burn it down. Fuck it. She wouldn't be using it, right?

When he went to pick the lock, to his surprise, the door was open. _Someone like Jill Valentine would_ not _keep their doors open at this time of night._

Smelling a rat, he pressed on. If someone killed him, At least the bitch in blue would be dead, too. He lead his point with his handgun trained in front of him. He swept every room he passed until, finally, there she was.

After all these years. 

She was blonde now, hair tied back in a ponytail, with a scar over her chest from that dark time in her life. She wore a tank top almost exactly like that one they met in. She didn't even look at him. Bitch. She was burning the midnight oil, doing some paperwork on her laptop at her kitchen island.

"Took you long enough," Jill said, still not looking at him. "Though, you have always liked the sneaky approach."

"You knew I was there?"

"All day."

He chuckled.

"I bet you've had to learn to be more vigilant over the years, huh? Tell me, has it ever worked?"

"Yes."

She finally turned to him, closing her laptop.

"This ends one of two ways. You are either rotting in a military prison, or you are going _to die."_

Her tone and eyes were cold. Dark. Almost a little unnerving.

"No, no, no. I won't be locked up in a cage or a coffin. _You_ will be receiving the latter."

"Alright, you've lost your first chance. Carlos, go on ahead."

Nicholai was put in a choke hold and _suplexed out of nowhere._ The shock in his body from the pain and jerk in his neck made him stiffen. His eyes turned upwards. Carlos looked the same as he was all that time ago - but his fluffy hair had started to grey a tad, and his beard was a bit more full, also sporting that same dusting of grey. Faint wrinkles of age were on his face, but were like Jill's - not so prominent, but enough to see she had changed.

 _"Great_ to see you again, soldier," Carlos said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "You look like _shit._ Why don't you take the offer of going to Club Fed? Jill is being _incredibly_ generous, and you're disrespecting her and her very nice home by barging in like this. So just go ahead and-"

 _ABSOLUTELY NOT._ Nicholai would not go down like this, penniless, at the mercy of these two, who should have died _countless_ times in Raccoon City, by Nemesis, by the nuclear bomb. Nicholai grabbed his concealed survival knife and brought it down on Carlos' boot. He shouted and recoiled, and Nicholai took the time to get to his feet in a quick motion, and tackle him back into the kitchen. Jill stood up, about to intervene when Nicholai was blown back and restrained. He heard the laugh before he looked down at this strange, black, thick spider web restraint.

"Eee, hee, hee, hee, hee, hee…"

That was not a laugh from someone well-adjusted. Or in this situation in the dead of fucking night.

"Hoo, hoo, hoo, hoo…!"

Nicholai looked up and saw a grinning man with a projectile weapon in his hand. Shocking, wide blue eyes stared at him. The younger gentleman had white hair, skin losing pigmentation in places, turning it from the darkest umber to a stark, pearly loss in pigmentation.

"Well, look at what I bagged and tagged! Hey there, pal! Ya remember _me?"_

This was no longer the scared kid asking for help for his fallen rescuer, not knowing that Nicholai was a threat and that he would be knocking him out violently, ending in a concussion. His eyes - hell, _everything_ about him was manic, deranged.

Totally, chaotically unhinged.

"I've still got the scar from where you either tried to concuss me or give me brain damage! Well, you certainly succeeded in one, the other, medically, is still up in the air, _but_ we kinda already know the truth, huh?"

Despite everything, Nicholai tried to rise to his feet.

"Ohhh-" he seethed, "You're _still_ thinking about coming after my mother? The one who gave me life, whose _loins from which_ _I_ _sprang forth -_ I'm kidding, that's complete bullshit, we all know my cookies n' creme ass is adopted."

Dryden's tone fluctuated dramatically like a master thespian. From a manic conversationalist to deeply poignant, to back to conversation. Nicholai's limited patience was running thin with this yammering fuckwit.

"But I'm serious about that little idea you have in that not-so-pretty head of yours! Seriously, self-care goes a _long_ way. You could benefit from a light foundation, some… _Drastic_ plastic surgery, some sun - and we may arrange all that so you don't look so fucking creepy when you're shipped off to Camp Convict! What d' ya say?"

_"FUCK. YOU."_

He was just about to get his bearings. He could charge at him, maybe break the fucker's teeth in so he would finally, _finally,_ shut the fuck up.

"Oof, no-go? You're still one tough customer, I'll give you that! But seriously, you better listen to me - _why do they never listen to me, Lord?"_

Alright. Nicholai was up. And he was readying himself as Dryden stepped back a bit.

"But seriously, this little opportunity is going to waste. You'll have all of your limbs, extremities, eyes, brains - you know, the luxury items - and 3 square meals a day! If you're a good little hamster, running in your wheel, you'll be out in… about a thousand years for your crimes against humanity? I dunno, I'm not a lawyer. But like I said - going once-"

Nicholai _growled._

"Twiiice…"

Dryden put a hand on his projectile. Nicholai began to charge.

"OOH, and no dice!"

He pressed a button on it, the net shirked into a small ball, and Nicholai was free. _Thank God,_ he was going to rip apart this little freak - and yet again, he was stopped. This time, he was slammed down the hall, into the stairs. He felt like he had just gotten hit by a cannonball.

 _"Nice distance,_ Lil' Bro! You remember the plan, right?"

He looked up, _and saw a massive,_ lion-like beast with glowing red eyes, and rusty red skin, staring him down, hair like its mane, long, shaggy, tail lashing.

Nicholai shuffled onto his elbows, and it _snarled,_ running after him, grabbed him by the shirt, slammed him onto one wall, the opposing wall, then proceeded to throw him down, vaulting him from above its head with both hands, and across the room.

 _"OH,_ _shit!_ Yeah, you do! Oop, sorry for the fowl language, Mumsy."

Okay. He needed to somehow get out of there. _Now._ He groaned and tried to writhe on his stomach, pain coming from everywhere. It stomped over to him like a damn Tyrant, kicked him over until he swerved around, then used the claws on its pawed foot to rip into his chest to his stomach. He gasped in pain, back arching. It then grabbed him by its tail by the neck and proceeded to start punching him.

_CRACK!_

Oh dear God, that was his collar bone.

_CRACK!_

Sternum.

_CRACK!_

Shoulder.

_CRACK!_

Hip - MAKE IT STOP, MAKE IT STOP, MAKE IT STOP.

It suddenly grabbed him with its clawed, golden paw, fur like sharp straw as it clutched his head by his face in its huge paw.

It _slowly_ brought his head back. It was going to smash its head into the wall. He would die. It would be over.

_"SCRATCH!"_

Somehow, Jill got this abomination's attention. It looked over into the kitchen, pointed ears towards that direction, where she had watched as Nicholai got utterly obliterated.

"That's enough."

The lionbeast growled deeply, looking back at Nicholai.

_And it spoke._

"Yer lucky me Mum's a be'er person th'n _I_ am."

It had a growling, rough voice with a thick cockney accent.

"'r yer comeupp'nce'd not be quite over jus' yet."

'Scratch' dropped him unceremoniously on the ground in front of the fireplace. He wheezed, eyes wide, unable to move. All four of them crowded and looked down at him. Jill had a piece of paper in her hand.

"I got this in the mail a week ago," she began, looking at it. "I _know_ who sent it. We don't get along. But in this instance, I decided to take this message to heart. I'd let you read it, but I'm not even sure if you can even move your head at this point, so-

 _"'_ **_From the desk of Her Highness, Queen Alexis V. Wesker,_**

_Dear Mrs. Valentine,_

_I just wanted to send you this friendly little letter to inform you of a certain Nicholai Genovef who will be visiting you in your humble abode, armed to the teeth._

_Normally, if I send people to spread chaos and fear to you and your ilk, I prefer the element of surprise. But I believe we can mutually benefit from this situation._

_You see, this mangy wolf came into my home, attempted to steal something of mine, and quickly found that he had fallen into a deep, deep darkness, from which he could not crawl out of. And so I decided to gift-wrap him over to you, to do with him what you will. You hate him much more than I, a hate started long, long, ago that I know even the morally upright Jill Valentine would care to divulge into._

_If this gets lost in the post, you die, and I experiment on him. Either way, I benefit, but for once, I am rooting for you._

_Cheers,_

_-Alexis Veronica Wesker'"_

Nicholai had no chance, even from the beginning. That bitch had set him up, he should have known it.

"You've caused the deaths of _thousands of people._ Probably more." Her words were full of venom. "Your greed makes me sick. But now look at you. Broken. Penniless. Pathetic… Dryden."

"Yes, Mother Dearest?"

"Get me the fireplace poker."

"Would you like me to start the fire, first?"

"No. He's not worth it."

"Right, then."

There was a _shing_ as the dual-toned gentleman grabbed said instrument and handed it to his mother. She stared down at him with the same look she did years ago when she left him to die in Raccoon City. But with more absolution.

"What was that you said to me before you left me and a kid to fight Nemesis after it mutated out of control? 'You can't put a price on life?' Well, it looks like someone just marked you as worthless."

Nicholai's last words were a strangled, rasping attempt at a scream as Jill began to play a symphony of justice using him and her blunt instrument.


End file.
